


The Trouble with Geniuses

by AndiekHubble96



Category: Project Blue Book (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24426535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndiekHubble96/pseuds/AndiekHubble96
Summary: Quinn finds out Hynek isn't sleeping and helps him through a personal decision.
Relationships: J. Allen Hynek & Michael Quinn
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	The Trouble with Geniuses

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first-ever fic for Project Blue Book, and my first on AO3. 
> 
> This isn't slash, but if you want to read it that way, I think that's great. Someday I would like to do a slash piece, especially in this fandom, but for now there's this. 
> 
> WARNING: There is some adult language in this. 
> 
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The trouble with geniuses, Michael Quinn reflected, was that their brains didn’t seem to turn off at night. Already having trouble sleeping in the sweltering motel room just off the highway, he was downright testy at his partner as he rolled away from the man in the other bed.

  


_Calm down_ , he told himself. _It’s not the Doc’s fault you can’t sleep. Just ignore him. Don’t think about him. He nearly died saving your life in Antarctica, so you can goddamn well not take out your inability to sleep on him just because he’s lying over there so fucking neatly with his hands on his chest like a man in a coffin and staring pathetically at the ceiling and he’s been doing it for the last five damn hours and—_

  


“Goddamnit, Doc! I swear I can hear you thinking even over the racket off the interstate!” he cursed.

  


“If that’s so, perhaps you should contact the MK Ultra program and ask to be examined,” Hynek suggested.

  


_No_ _“Sorry_ ,” _no_ “ _My apologies, Captain_ ,” Quinn grumbled internally. _Just some smartass remark_. He rolled over yet again with a huff. Even with the curtains shut, the neon vacancy sign three feet outside their window was too bright for him to keep facing in that direction anyway. “Maybe it’s you. Maybe you’re just an obnoxiously lout broadcaster or something.”

  


“Then it sounds as if we should both volunteer for testing, yes?”

  


“Or, and stay with me on this, you could stop thinking, go to sleep, and we could both wake up refreshed in the morning.”

  


“Well, if you want to do the easy thing.”

  


“You know, yes. Yes, I would. For once I would like us to do the easy thing. So, count sheep or test-tubes or atoms or whatever eggheads count to go to sleep.”

  


“Has counting sheep ever actually worked for anyone?”

  


“Try to be the first, Doc. You could write a paper about it and go down in scientific history.”

  


“Unless the paper itself puts people to sleep.”

  


Quinn yanked a pillow out from under him and covered his head. “Then you’ll make a million bucks selling copies as a sleep aid,” he growled with a muffle. _The son-of-a-bitch is smiling now, I know it_.

  


“Perhaps if I provide you with a discourse on the subject of ovine acrobatics it would profit you more than for me to simply count the animals myself?” 

  


“Keep using words like ‘ovine’ and I will fall asleep on you, even in the daytime.” 

  


“I hate to point this out, but if you can still hear me, it’s doubtful the pillow is working as a sound barrier.” 

  


“I swear to God, if I take this pillow away only to see you laughing at me, you’re gonna be going to sleep with a knuckle sandwich.” 

  


When no answer came, for an entire five seconds Quinn entertained the thrilling hope that Hynek had finally shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Then the silence worried him. “Doc…?” he probed softly. 

  


“Go to sleep, Captain.” 

  


Quinn threw off the pillow and sat up to face his partner with a sigh. “Listen, the knuckle sandwich thing…if this is about that time I decked you in Roswell, I mean we talked about that, didn’t we? We both apologized.” 

  


Hynek smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was staring at the ceiling again. “No, it’s not about that, Michael. Truthfully, I can’t think of any reason why I can’t sleep. So I decided to stop talking and at least let you get some rest.” 

  


“C'mon, don’t go coy on me now, Doc. You can’t buy a man dinner, drag him to a cheap motel, and then come over all shy like this,” Quinn joked as he pulled a cigarette out of the pack on the nightstand and lit it. As he shook out the match, he smirked like the devil at the way the Doc’s left eyebrow shot up. But there was something off about the scientist’s look, especially when Quinn pressed him again, “Look, Doc. If we’re not going to talk or go out drinking, night hours tend to drag. So spill.” 

  


Hynek practically leapt out of bed, not looking at Quinn. “I’m just going…” Then he lurched to the side as if his knees had given out. Luckily, Quinn barely had to reach over to catch him, and only bothered standing to take more of the other man’s weight. “Doc?” 

  


“I’m fine. Just got up too fast,” Hynek murmured feebly. He pulled away, but then swayed on his feet. 

  


“Uh unh,” Quinn said. “Sit your ass back down. I’ll get you some water if you need it.” Hynek nodded weakly and Quinn grabbed one of the paper-wrapped glasses and headed to the bathroom. After he came back and handed the full glass to the other man, he switched on the bedside lamp and took a good long and hard look at his partner. “You look like shit. Exactly how long haven’t you been sleeping?” 

  


“Only a few nights. It’s nothing to worry about, so let’s drop it, all right?” 

  


“That’s a negative. If you’re not in a fit state for this case, I need to know. Besides, how ya gonna back me when you’re dead on your feet, huh?” 

  


“What are you talking about? I can back you. I’ve done it before,” Hynek snapped indignantly. 

  


“Keep your shirt on, Doc. I know you’ve done it before. I know I can count on you. Just not in this state,” Quinn clarified with a nodding gesture to Hynek’s current questionable condition. 

  


“I told you I’m fine.” 

  


Quinn roughly grabbed Hynek’s chin to really see his partner’s face. The man’s eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, his complexion pasty, and he gave an overall impression of being scruffy and rumpled, but he didn’t look quite as bad off as he had after Fuller’s death. Still, Quinn knew Hynek could work himself up into that state without blinking, so it was time to nip this in the bud. “You’re fine. Sure. You just can’t make it from here to the bathroom without tipping over like a drunk after a bender.” 

  


Hynek breathed out heavily. “That’s a low blow,” he said, but the fight had gone out of him. 

  


Quinn shrugged. “Way I heard it, the last time you were like this you ended up passing out in the middle of the road in that fake neighbourhood the military set up to test their nukes. That about right?” 

  


“What? How did you hear about that?” 

  


“Had a few — reluctant — conversations with William while we were on the ship coming back. Oh? What? You’re surprised Mister Black-Trench-Coat Kidnapper doesn’t have a sense of honour when it comes to revealing secrets?” 

  


Hynek looked royally ticked off but he didn’t say anything. He was quiet for a few moments, considering what to say. “Why do you trust me?” he finally asked. 

  


Quinn was taken aback. He tapped out his cigarette in the ashtray and pulled out another one. “Really? You’re lying here awake in the middle of the night, making yourself sick, wondering if I trust you?” 

  


“No. I know you trust me. I merely don’t know why.” 

  


“You're a real piece of work, Doc. You couldn’t’ve just said, ‘ _I’m worried about the mortgage_ ,’ or ‘ _Do you think these blue lights over New Mexico are on the up and up_?’ You have to know the answer to a deeply philosophical and highly personal question at exactly 3:16 in the morning so you can sleep and not pass out on me while we’re interviewing the locals in the morning, is that it?” 

  


“I would argue that I didn’t plan for your answer to come at _exactly_ 3:16 in the morning, that the question is not deeply philosophical but only highly personal, and that the rest of your conclusion, especially pertaining to sleeping and passing out, is shaky as well. The truth is that I was more than happy to keep my thoughts to myself and let you sleep, but you wouldn’t have it.” 

  


“You’re punishing me, right? That’s what this is?” 

  


“Captain, you can either answer the question or we can both try and get some sleep.” 

  


“Fine. Why do I trust you…” Two dozen thoughts jumped into Michael Quinn’s head. 

  


_Because when I was trying to get you to join the program and faked ignorance to trick you into it by making you feel smart, you saw through my bullshit. And you saw past the uniform; most people only see the cocky flyboy or the flunky for the higher-ups. You believed I could be intelligent too, and that’s why you saw it._

  


_Because on our first case, I nearly killed us in a plane crash just to prove you wrong, and yet you showed up the next day. That showed you had guts, and that you weren’t going to be turned away._

  


_Because you were angry I handed that first report in without even letting you see it. That told me you had self-respect; you weren’t going to happily sign your name to just anything._

  


_Because you figured out that the “alien” in Flatwood was nothing but an owl in a tree. You looked for the truth, not just what you wanted to see. Same with the alien autopsy film. You were so damn gung-ho for it to be shown, but the second you realized it was a fake, you fixed the problem and saved the ass of a man who’d just fired you, and mine as well._

  


_Because even when I gave you the chance to take off in Huntsville, and not break into the German’s little nest there, you didn’t. You came with me. And when we found the creature in the tank, it was you who wanted to call Harding._

  


_Because you might be right when you say there’s safety in the certitude truth provides._

  


_Because you keep coming back even though you have to know we’re paying you for your name only. The Air Force wants a scientist’s stamp of approval on their reports, but they don’t want anything even close to an answer —hell, we’ll bury it if you give us one we don’t want known — and we certainly don’t care if you end up ruining your career by looking like a crackpot. But you come back because you’re curious, because you care, and because you want things done right._

  


_Because even though I hate the way you sometimes go about it, I know what your purpose is. You want the truth more than anything, and it’s hard not to trust someone like that even when they lie to you._

  


_Because at first I thought you didn’t know when to shut up, but then it turned out that you just don’t fucking care when people want you to shut up. When something needs saying, you’ll say it, even if it’s to an angry General._

  


_Because you always keep a cool head when I’m ready to go off like a rocket._

  


_Because even after I pulled you away from Fuller, you were still fighting me to get to him. Because you wanted to help Thomas Mann even though he and his wife were holding us hostage. Because you were willing to steal a jeep and risk being shot on sight to prove Sergeant Willingham’s innocence._

  


_Because you’re observant and resourceful. Most of the geniuses I’ve met before can tell you everything about their own subject, but then get lost on their way to the grocery store. But you hiked over five miles with me into fucking Canadian wilderness, disarmed what you thought was a goddamned live nuke while at the same time not only figuring out the truth about the thing, but how to turn it to our advantage to get us out of the mess we were in._

  


_Because it turns out you’ve been right about nearly everything we’ve seen, or at least raised enough doubts in me I barely know where to turn, so what can I do but trust the guy who seems to be telling me the truth when everyone else is lying?_

  


_And because you came all the way to Antarctica to save my goddamned hide. I’ve known more than a few people who might’ve saved my life while in the moment, but none who’d keep at it for weeks, when everyone told him again and again I was dead. You’re stubborn and infuriating, you have a frightening compulsion to go rogue and run your damn-fool head into danger, you’re not nearly as sure about whether to tell the public the truth as you pretend to be, you don’t listen to or follow orders, and you are one tricky son-of-a-bitch, but I have never learned as much about myself as a person than I have from you._

  


Quinn thought all of these things, but it was all too much to say. He was the man who’d only been able to mumble “me too” when the Doc had told him that he looked up to him, that he had never doubted his loyalty. “I don’t know, Doc. It’s a dozen little things. You seriously want me to put my finger on just one? Okay, here it is: It’s because only essentially honest people are this much of a pain in the ass.” 

  


A corner of Hynek’s mouth quirked up. “I’m not entirely sure of that answer.” 

  


“Don’t sell yourself short, Doc. I’m not exaggerating. You are exactly that much of a pain in the ass.” 

  


“Is that enough for you?” 

  


“I get it, Doc. I know things were tense in the beginning. We had different agendas back then. Maybe still do, to some extent. Different mindsets too — a soldier’s task is to protect and obey, be loyal to his country, which means sometimes shielding the public from things they have no need to know. A soldier needs expediency too; in a battle situation it’s all about fixing the problem asap. Closing the case like the generals told me…I never questioned that till you came along. 

“But you, you’re a scientist. You want to question everything. You want to keep digging even when you’re ordered not to. You’re thinking of decades in the future, of leaving knowledge for those to come, so it’s gotta be the truth or people will be building their facts on a shaky foundation. By our very natures, we’re coming at everything from completely opposite directions. Yet I trust you. I trust you as much as anyone I’ve ever known. So, is that good enough for you?” 

  


Hynek nodded, touched by the other man’s words. 

  


“So you wanna let me in on whatever the hell is going on with you now?” 

  


“It’s not about work. Well, it is, in a manner of speaking, but it’s not actually. Not really. But it could affect the job, but…” Hynek threw up his hands helplessly. 

  


“Wow, you really do need some sleep,” Quinn said, and he couldn’t help the hard edge that crept into his voice, and when Hynek looked slightly abashed at this new tone, Quinn couldn’t help but think “ _Good_.” He'd thought the two of them were past sneaking around and deceiving each other. _If you’re about to break my trust now, after just making me admit to it, you’re going to wake up tomorrow looking like a racoon_. 

  


“It’s silly. And personal. I just don’t want to talk about it, that’s all.” 

  


“I’m not taking “no” for an answer here, Doc,” Quinn warned. 

  


“It’s not about anything that actually happened, or anything that I’ve done, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s just…like I said. It’s personal.” 

  


“You and Mimi going through a rough spot?” 

  


“No, nothing like that,” Hynek assured him. 

  


“Then talk or I’m sending you home.” 

  


“What? You can’t do that!” 

  


“I sure as hell can.” 

  


“You’re blackmailing me.” 

  


Quinn said nothing. 

  


“I don’t appreciate this. All right, yes, I’m a bit run down, but a man still has the right to some privacy in his personal life!” 

  


Quinn remained silent. 

  


“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” 

  


“Not a chance in hell, Doc.” 

  


Quinn watched as Hynek tried to get the anger radiating off him under control. “Fine. After we came back from Antarctica, Mimi told me something about Susie Miller.” Quinn didn’t know if Hynek had said that on purpose in hopes of hurting him enough to get him off his back, but it stung. However, he refused to let the other man see that and signaled for him to continue. “In any case,” Hynek went on, in a somewhat kinder tone this time, “It’s simply something which has brought up a few fears that I haven’t considered since I first took this job.” 

  


Quinn relaxed a bit. He even felt a touch ashamed; all those pretty words about trust and the minute the Doc starts hemming and hawing about something he’s ready to jump all over the man, thinking Hynek’s kept things from him again. “What did Mimi say?” 

  


“Susie Miller had — _has_ — a child. A daughter. Maybe five or six, according to Mimi, but she didn’t get a good look at the girl. Apparently, the Russians had had the girl and that’s why Susie did the things she did, or at least that’s why she said she did.” 

  


“Do the generals know?” 

  


“Not as far as I’m aware of.” 

  


Quinn breathed deep and tried to keep a hold on himself. “When did Mimi find this out?” 

  


“While I was looking for you. The generals brought her onto the base, saying Susie wouldn’t talk to anyone but her. Mimi agreed to hear Susie out and Susie gave her some information about something or other, and then grabbed Mimi and pulled her close. That’s when she whispered in Mimi’s ear that she had left something in Joel’s room. When Mimi searched, she found a letter in Joel’s model rocket.” 

  


“And the letter told her about the girl and where to find her?” 

  


Hynek nodded. “Mimi followed its directions to let the people looking after the girl know what had happened.” 

  


Quinn had a thousand questions. _Was that why Susie had betrayed them all? To save her daughter? Why hadn’t Susie told him? Why Mimi? Would he have been able to forgive her? Would he have helped her? Would he have been charged with treason if he had? Did she refrain from telling him because she loved him? Because she didn’t want to debase her daughter by using her as a ploy to gain help from him?_

  


_Could they have escaped?_

  


_Been a family?_

  


Was that the reason the Doc hadn’t wanted to tell him? Because he was afraid his partner would eat his heart out over this? But only one question was relevant at the moment. Quinn got up and fetched another glass and a small bottle of bourbon off the dresser. “Okay. So, what about all this has got you in such a tizzy?” he asked as he took his partner's water glass and filled it. 

  


Hynek took a drink. “Joel. Joel and Mimi both, really.” 

  


Quinn poured himself a drink and sank back onto his bed. “Doc, we’re not the Russians. We’re not going to hold your wife and kid hostage to make you do something you don’t want to do.” 

  


Hynek threw back the rest of his bourbon and it caused him to sputter. “It’s not us I’m worried about,” he argued in a voice even more raspy than usual. “Michael, if the Russians or someone else ever took Joel, if ever my son’s life, or Mimi’s, was in danger, I’m…I’m not sure I wouldn’t do the same as Susie. I simply can’t say for certain I wouldn’t betray you and my country and everything I hold dear.” 

  


“First off, don’t worry yourself about me. I know it’s a minor consideration compared to the thought of losing Mimi or Joel, but don’t even entertain it for a minute. I’m a big boy; I’ll survive. Second, while I can’t even begin to know how deeply this decision affects you, I want to make sure you know that you’re protecting Mimi and Joel just as much doing this as you would be by quitting your job. Keeping the public safe and happy is more important than you know, plus you’re helping to keep the Russkies at bay. What are Joel and Mimi going to do if World War III starts? And it nearly did those last couple of cases we worked before Antarctica, so don’t think it can’t happen. 

  


“Not to mention, you’re a high-level and well-known astrophysicist. I won’t lie to you, you may be a target already. A low-level one in the Russkies’ eyes, maybe, but one all the same. However, at least this way you’ve got contacts.” Quinn reached over to place a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “And you’ve got me. If someone even thinks about taking one or both of them, I’m right by your side, got it?” 

  


“Yes, I’ve had an inkling of that for a while. It’s just difficult sometimes, getting past the worry and guilt and nightmares. I took this job for the chance of discovery and a little bit for the idea of perhaps receiving some recognition within my own lifetime, but now I can’t help but feel selfish.” There was a look in Hynek’s eyes that hoped Quinn would understand. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this, yet at the same time, I don’t want to run out on you. And I want to keep going for myself as well! This has been some of the most exciting work of my career.” 

  


“Are you worried you’d begin to resent Joel and Mimi if they kept you from it?” 

  


“No. Yes.” Hynek shook his head helplessly and stood up and started to pace. As he seemed steadier on his feet, Quinn didn’t hover. “I don’t know. I hate the very thought of it, but I can’t lie either and tell myself it wouldn’t happen. Whatever I feel though, I have to remember that I’m a father and a husband. It’s more than my duty to protect my family in whatever way I can, it’s my being able to live with myself, soul intact.” 

  


“Well, I have got one idea,” Quinn said. “Go home and talk this out with your wife. And then, remember that I’m a very bright man.” 

  


Hynek stopped his pacing to face Quinn. “Oh, yes?” 

  


“You remember when William took you?” 

  


Hynek’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Of course I do. You came after me. You saved me.” 

  


“Yeah, but why did I come after you?” 

  


“Because Mimi — “ Hynek paused, his eyes alight with the answer. “A code?” 

  


“The first of our new security measures. Known only to you, me, and your family. And maybe Faye, just in case. I may not be able to solve your dilemma, Doc, but I can try to make one choice a little better.” 

  


Hynek sat down on his bed once more; he knew Quinn wasn’t one for sentimental words, so he limited himself to only nodding in gratitude. 

  


“Now,” Quinn ordered, “get to sleep before I call your house to tell Joel you needed bedtime stories and lullabies before you’d leave me in peace. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow after our interviews.” 

  


Doctor Allen Hynek waved dismissively “Yes, yes,” and got into his bed. There would still be worry, he knew, but talking had helped and he was soon asleep. 

  


Quinn, meanwhile, drifted off only after a long time of picturing a life with a blonde wife and daughter.


End file.
